


See You Around, Baby

by viviandeluca



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassin - Freeform, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Crying, Danger, Dreams, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Goodbye, Hair Brushing, Implied Death, Marvel - Freeform, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pain, Reader-Insert, Shooting, Sleepy Cuddles, Suffering, Visions, kiss, romantic kiss, soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviandeluca/pseuds/viviandeluca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your soulmate, Natasha Romanov, is going on her last mission. You both know that she won't be making it home this time and she has one request for you. She has a second soulmate, your best friend Bucky Barnes and all she wants is for the two of you to take care of each other. Can you trust what your visions are telling you or should you really move on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When She Left

Your hands grab at her waist without any thought, a thoughtless impulse that you couldn’t quite help but regret. It wouldn’t do you any good to start another fight that you knew you would surely lose. You’re hands fell to your sides limply and her fiery red hair fell in her face when she glanced down at them. 

“You can’t possibly be mad again,” she said in an exasperated tone, taking a step away from you like you had slapped her square in the face. Instead, it was you who felt a sting as she distanced herself from you. 

You hadn’t even spoke and she was already angry with you.

“I’m not mad, Natasha, I just can’t breathe at the thought of being without you,” you whispered softly. You throat felt swollen, refusing to let a proper breath through. It felt as if you would never breathe again. 

“Have you ever considered that you’re the one hurting me?” Her words were filled with venom but her pale green eyes showed her conflicted thoughts. She looked anguished and tortured yet she couldn’t speak her true feelings aloud. You wished she would just say what she was really thinking. 

“I don’t want to ever be the one to hurt you. I just don’t see how…” Your voice breaks and you swallow a sob, desperate to stop yourself from crying. She didn’t cry in front of you and you had always made an effort to do the same. There was always a fear of her leaving you because of your weaknesses.

She clenched her fists and you noticed her muscles were tight in her fitting, black suit. You had always admired her beauty more so when she wore her Black Widow suit. She was breathtaking; looking more powerful, slender and strong than anyone you had ever come across. Natasha Romanov was the most gorgeous woman you had ever been with, even in her furious state. 

“Everytime I leave for a mission I have to leave you. I have to worry about dying and leaving you behind. I have to worry about you being hurt or taken because some enemy I have decides to get revenge. I have to miss you. Do you know how hard it is to leave you? You never give me any credit. You just cry and beg me to stay. This is so unfair for you, but it isn’t fair me either,” she cried loudly, her fists shaking as she tried to calm herself. There weren’t any tears but you could hear the crying in voice and the thickness in her throat. She had tried to hold it in but you had pushed her over the edge this time. 

Your mouth was agape from the shock of her words and you felt like slumping to the floor. You hadn’t considered that Natasha had been so in love you. Your love for her was unwavering and passionate, but she was a gifted and trained goddess. You were a simple young adult with a mediocre job who spent days moping when your soulmate left for missions. Had it been so obvious that she cared so much? 

“I love you too much,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from yelling. She took a step closer to you instead of further this time and wiped a stray tear from the side of your cheek. Her cold fingers brushed your cheek lightly, ghosting over your lips. 

You reached for her waist again and pulled her against you, running your fingers through her soft waves and breathing in the familiar herbal scent that wafted from it. As she traced your lips delicately, you tried to memorize the small things about her face that you loved. The crease between her brows, the smooth slope of her adorable nose and the pout of her lips. You loved to study her perfections and flaws whenever you had the chance, in case she didn't come home and you never had the chance again. You also had hope though, unwavering hope and confidence in your soulmate's abilities. There had never been a risk as great as this one. This time there was barely any hope to muster. 

"Are you going to go see James?" Your voice is low and restrained, desperate to keep some control over anything you could. You were losing your soulmate, your only love. You couldn't break now. 

Natasha shook her head and you noticed her lips tremble slightly. She not only had to leave you, but she also had to leave her other soulmate, Bucky Barnes. It wasn't uncommon to have more than one soulmate but you had been surprised when Bucky showed up in your life. Another superhero, and assassin, to compare yourself to was complicated. Both Bucky and Natasha were constantly dealing with emotional damage and fighting in battles that took a lot of energy. Meanwhile, you were at home begging the Gods to keep your family safe and bring them home. You had powers too, but they weren't developed or strong enough to be useful. It was too dangerous for you to join the Avengers and fight along side with them. Instead, you used your visions of the past to teach others. You wrote novels on the visions you had and they were discussed in University courses and high school history classes. It was a safe profession. To stay home, write, and wait for your loved ones. 

"I've already said my goodbyes. You know Bucky and I have a complicated past. We had a different relationship than you and I; less communication needed to bond. I also fight along side him and the other Avengers. But you--" she swallowed a sob and her nostrils flared slightly, a sign that she was in pain and holding back tears. "You are the one I truly leave behind. You're my peace of mind, my only normalcy. You have given me a piece of the life that was stolen from me when I was in the red room. I will always, completely be indebted to you for that."

You cried freely then, embracing Natasha in a close embrace that most likely took her breath away. You could barely breathe either, holding her so tightly like that could make her stay with you. How could you watch her go without breaking apart? This time was different than the other goodbyes. This time you were truly losing her for good. 

"Will I know?" You couldn't say it out loud, those impending words of doom. Will you know when she is dead? Will your heart feel like it is ripping in half, will you lose your breath and scream her name? Will you will empty inside? 

One of her hands rubbed your lower back and the other gently combed through your hair. She didn't respond, most likely because she didn't know. She had to be so terrified to go into a mission that was not one she would make it out of, but she kept as much as that fear in. You wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be strong, that she could break down as well, but a piece of you didn't want her to. You didn't know if you could bear to see her so afraid without making you even more upset. She knew that as well, which is why she was doing her best to keep everything in. 

"I need to ask you something that's going to be really hard," she murmured through your hair. You stifled a sob and pulled back slightly, putting a hand to her warm cheek. She covered your hand with her own and stilled the tremors, rubbing her thumb gently across yours. You didn't want to ever forget the feeling of her calloused hand against yours or the feminine softness of her cheek. But one day you knew that you would wake up and realize you had forgotten. Those were not the types of things that stayed with a person forever. Only the idea of it. 

"Anything," you choked out. You would do anything she asked, whatever the cost. She was your soulmate, the closest person to you in the world. Most days she was truly your everything. 

You had Bucky too, as sometimes he stayed behind on missions that were exclusive to Natasha. The two of you had an awkward relationship, with sharing a soulmate and what not. But somehow he was your best friend and he was also very protective. Whether or not that was at the request of Natasha, you still appreciated how much he tried to be there for you. You told him about all of your visions and once and a while he would laugh and say that he remembered some of the events from the visions. You educated him and more often than not, he had real experiences to educate you with. He also gave the best hugs when you missed Natasha and just needed someone to hold you. 

"I need you to become closer with Bucky and keep him grounded. He won't have me to share his dreams with, his darkest thoughts. He won't have someone to understand him. I need you to do whatever it takes to always be by his side. I know he can't replace me and you can't replace me for him, but you can learn to be there for each other."

Your breathing hitched and you tried to process her words, to understand exactly what she was saying. You already had a bond with Bucky, albeit strange but still a close bond. What else could you do to be there for a him? Natasha was right; you couldn't replace her in their relationship just as Bucky couldn't in yours. But did she trust you with his heart? It was unheard of for two people not bound by the gift of soulmates to fall in love. Was that what she expected and wanted for the two of you? 

"You can't possibly expect me to--" 

She smiled sadly and didn't a say a word as she pulled your lips to hers. She had the softest lips that melded with yours so easily, moving naturally and hungrily as a result of many years of experience. You had kissed her hundreds of times, felt the damp heat of her tongue as it moved with your own. Yet somehow knowing this was the last time you would kiss her made it so much more desperate and needy. Your fingers dug into the swell of her hips and her wrists were crossed around your necks, pulling your mouth closer to hers. You tears finally stopped flowing and dried on your flushed cheeks. One kiss from Natasha and it was as if she had healed you of your suffering. If only you didn't know that it was the last. 

You didn't hear the door to your bedroom open, or hear the footsteps come from behind you. You did however feel Natasha slowly break from your embrace and release you from the passionate kiss. Before you had time to make one more desperate attempt at begging for her to stay a little longer, hands wrapped around you from behind. Your upper arms were trapped against your sides and your back was pressed against the body of Bucky Barnes. You didn't quite register that he was restraining you until Natasha backed away and walked past you without a word. That was when you really fell apart. 

A wail was released from your lips before you even realized that you were crying again. You struggled to break apart from Bucky but he held on as tightly as he could without crushing you. His head rested on your shoulder and he mumbled something that you couldn't hear over the sound of your screams. Your chest felt as if it was collapsing and your stomach churned painfully. You desperately willed yourself not to be sick as you forced Bucky to turn around so that you could watch your soulmate leave the room. 

"No, no, no--no Nat--You can't, no, no," you cried desperately, "You can't leave now. No! Come back!" 

Bucky mumbled something again as Nat turned around to face you, just a step outside the bedroom door. You heard it this time over the sound of your delirious screams. 

"We'll be okay," he said in his gravelly, calm voice. How could he be so okay? How could his heartbeat be so slow against your back? 

Why wasn't he dying inside like you were?

As you locked eyes with Natasha you realized that it was because as much as he loved her, he didn't need her as much as you did. He knew how to deal with loss and pain on a different level than you. 

"See you around, baby," she lied thickly, her swollen lips forming a sad smile that you knew would never leave your thoughts. 

And then she was gone. 

Bucky spun you around and cradled you to his strong chest, the opposite of the soft curves of Natasha. You sobbed against his shirt and he tried his best to sooth you by stroking your back with his cool, solid metal hand. You shivered and gripped the front of his shirt tightly in your fists. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were thankful to have him hold you back and care for you. But through endless amounts of suffering and delirium, you could only feel Natasha grow further and further away from you. Away from the life you worked so hard to build with her. 

And hours later when you are curled into a ball, enveloped by the body of your best friend who is mourning the loss as well, the first vision of Natasha will break through your tortured thoughts. 

You will wiped your tears on Bucky's worn out shirt and watch the moment Natasha Romanov walked into the library where you had been asleep in a chair. You will see how fondly she gazed at you and the way she internally debated on whether or not she should wake you up. You will feel the instant spark that shocked you awake when she finally shook your shoulder to wake you up. 

You will watch how much she fell in love with you at that very moment. How she knew you were her soulmate without even needing an introduction. 

The moments leading up to the very first time you spoke to Natasha Romanov.

And then weeks from that vision of the past that put you soundly asleep, you will fall to your knees in the kitchen, dropping a bowl of cereal without warning. You will scream for Bucky even though you know that he is in the same position as you wherever he is in the apartment. Your hands will shake violently as your body convulses with tremoring sobs. 

You will just know.


	2. In Her Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've adapted into your life without Natasha, Bucky by your side. Then a new vision interrupts your newly calm life and it might be more recent than you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who Yelena Belova is, some quick insight you might need: In the comics, she debuted briefly in Inhumans #5 (1999) and later that year was in a Black Widow miniseries comics, I believe. It's been a long while since I read anything with Yelena... 
> 
> She was trained in the Red Room, manipulated of course, tricked into killing her look alike who went psycho and then finally adapted the role of Black Widow because Natasha had gone rogue. 
> 
> I know she isn't in the MCU but I needed a situation to work, so I integrated her in whoops.

You brushed your hair slowly, letting the bristles glide across your scalp in a calming motion. You're eyes flicked up to the mirror and you smiled softly at the reflection of Bucky leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed as they always seemed to be, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

"You're awake early," he grumbled, still tired from his mission that he had just got back from. You wouldn't tell him so, but the real reason you were awake was because it was too hard to sleep without him there. 

Instead you took naps during the day while it was still light out and then spent your nights hoping that he would be home. Most of the time his missions lasted more than a day, sometimes lasting weeks. You never knew if he was hurt or dead but Clint tried to keep you updated on the team's health and on the missions. Without Natasha you had a developed a strangely close relationship with the rest of the Avengers. You kept a small distance as to not get too attached but otherwise they had slowly become your family in the last two years.

Clint kept you updated, Tony bought you random gifts and let you try out the newest gadgets, and when Bruce finally came home and you connected, he started letting you take tours of the lab. You loved to listen to him ramble on for long periods of time about scientific theories and projects though you hadn't a clue to what he meant.

The most strained relationship was with Steve who didn't quite understand your relationship with Bucky. He respected his friend's wishes to not be questioned, but you could tell that he was still wary of you. You learned from Bruce that it was because he feared you would hurt Bucky.

Bucky stumbled towards you and tried to hide the obvious pain in his right leg. You stiffened and turned around in your chair, scraping our elbow against the edge of the vanity. 

“Ow,” you complained softly, rubbing your elbow while inspecting Bucky’s leg in the dim lighting. He was wearing jeans to hide whatever injury he had acquired on the mission. You prayed it wasn’t bad and reached your hand out to summon him to you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned voice. He came close enough that you could reach out and lift the pant leg of his loose jeans. You ignored his question and found it ridiculous that he could be concerned over your elbow when he could barely walk. 

“What in Odin’s name have you done to your leg?” You covered your mouth with your free hand and suppressed a gag. His calf was torn to shreds, fresh blood and dry blood painting the exposed flesh. It looked far more physically painful than anything you had ever experienced. 

Perhaps not the most painful thing that he had ever experienced though. That thought saddened you and you leapt up from the vanity table, careful not to be so clumsy again. 

“I’ll heal,” he said simply, brushing his shaggy brown hair from his eyes in one motion. You frowned and pushed him back against the bed, squeezing his shoulder to make sure he knew to stay put. 

“I’ll be back in a moment; please do not injure yourself more while I’m gone,” you pleaded in an exasperated tone. You knew that from experience that if he wasn’t told, he would get up and move around until he got hurt again. He wasn’t very self sufficient when it came to injury. 

You slipped into the hall and passed your old bedroom, averting your eyes so you wouldn’t have to think about it. When you reached the kitchen you wet a few rags and grabbed a needle and medical thread from your emergency medical kit. It was a present from Bruce on your first birthday after Nat had gone. You enjoyed the sentiment but hoped to never use it. Unfortunately, you used it so often that you were almost too good at being a pretend doctor. 

After rushing back to Bucky, you noticed that he had gotten up despite your request. He was leaning against the vanity and thumbing through your notebook. It was full of sketches of your visions, the ones that you wanted to keep with you forever. Ever since Nat had left, there had suddenly been many of her. You had never had visions of familiar faces until she had gone. It was a gift some days, but often a burden. 

“This one is beautiful,” Bucky whispered softly, tracing his fingers over the unfinished sketch of a particular vision. 

You moved closer to the desk and frowned at the sketch of Bucky and Natasha in a naked embrace. It was only waist up and they were surrounded by wisps of smoke that always clouded your visions. In some ways, it was very beautiful. The desire captured in Natasha’s eyes and the devotion in Bucky’s features. They were admirably gorgeous. 

“How badly do you miss that?” You hadn’t meant it to be directly about sex, but you did wonder what he missed most about Nat. What he desired the most. 

He seemed caught by surprise at your question, a startled expression on his normally stoic features. You weren’t used to seeing him being surprised at anything, or at least showing it. You felt a bit guilty for asking; he had never asked your about Nat once. 

“I miss the bond, but being physical was just one aspect. It was never something I needed to survive.” 

You were not expecting the blunt honesty or an answer that you understand too well. How could you tell him that it was the same for you? Would he question your honesty? 

In the past few years your relationship with Bucky had become peacefully complicated. There wasn’t a name or a label. There was just a closeness that you relied on. It wasn’t physical in a sense; you slept in the same bed and kissed away sadness when you could. Yet neither of you could bring yourselves to need sex. There wasn’t the strong desire that had been there when Nat was alive. When she left, it was like the intense desire for sexual intimacy left with her. 

If only you could say the same thing about love. 

“Bucky, please come sit down. I need to fix your leg the best I can for the night.” This time he came more willingly and without a little push. You kneeled on the floor and laid put your supplies around you, the wet clothes in your fist. 

Bucky held his breath while you dabbed at the blood around the cuts, trying not to touch the wounds quite yet. When you finally cleared enough blood surrounding the wounds, you gently dabbed at the tortured flesh. A small hiss came from his lips and you shuddered, wanting nothing else than to take the pain away. 

“I need something to distract myself,” he said through grit teeth. You looked up with a raised brow and thought carefully. “Bring me the brush,” he asked you calmly. 

You shrugged and slid back away from the bed, reaching up at the vanity and grabbing the brush. When you were seated back in front of Bucky again, he grabbed the brush and gently combed it through your (y/h/c) hair, his hands slightly shaking. It was oddly intimate, to have your hair brushed as you attempted to heal him. Those were the moments you felt connected, along with the nights spent in his arms where one of you woke the other from a nightmare. 

He ran his fingers through your hair along with the brush and sighed at the softness. You finished doctoring his leg and threw the rags and used supplies into the waste in in the hall. Bucky finally being home meant that you could sleep. 

“Do you think we could go to bed?” He responded with a lazy nod and carefully slipped out of his jeans. He was on the verge of passing out, the blood loss and exhaustion finally catching up with him. You felt a small amount of pity watching his shrug out of his shirt and decided to give him a hand, dragging the material over his head. 

You rolled back the blankets and manipulated them once he got into the bed so that his right leg was over the blankets. Anything touching the wound had to hurt so you hoped that he wouldn’t get too cold while asleep. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled while you slid into the bed. His hand wrapped around your bare middle where your tank top had ridden up. The metal was cool against your skin, causing you to shiver slightly. From experience he knew that you didn’t mind and pulled you closer to him. The rest of him was much warmer and you hoped that he wasn’t getting a fever. 

You hooked your leg over his waist and buried your head under his chin. His unruly dark hair tickled your forehead and you smiled sadly, wondering when falling asleep in his arms had become the most important thing in your life. Was that a good or bad thing? Why did it feel so much like a betrayal?

“I love you, (y/n).” His voice broke through the unnerving flood of thoughts in your mind. You could feel your chest swell slightly and your hand gripped his metal arm more tightly. 

“I think it’s fair to say that I love you as well,” you responded lightly. It may have been a tired exchange of words in the dark but you knew that it was so much more. 

It was a promise kept, a completely new type of bond, and especially, a peaceful sort of light in a dark situation. Perhaps you wouldn’t have nightmares that night.

"What if this was meant to happen. What if soulmates aren't the only thing that fate meddles with?" 

His voice was low that you could have pretended to not have heard it and easily fallen asleep without a second thought. You could have pretended that he had never said those words, brought that thought to your attention. You could have pretended that you didn't agree and that he wasn't implying Nat's death was all part of a plan. A twisted, fucked up plan that made you feel sick to your stomach. 

"Nat died for us," you admitted as your body began to tremble. Bucky let out a small sigh and drew patterns on your back with his silver fingers. 

Was it possible to comfort you when he needed comfort too? 

"I don't think she would have hated dying for the people she loved the most. Her death changed us, brought us closer together. It gave my fight for meaning and your books more depth. The only thing she wanted more than to die for her soulmates would have been to live for them. She saved a lot of people on that mission," he added in wistfully. 

You were not allowed to know the truth about the mission or what happened. You hadn't gotten an explanation, a reason or a body. The funeral had been guarded and quick, even though it was respectful and sad. There was not closer in Natasha's death and you had shoved that to the back of your mind a long time ago. Some days it felt like you were waiting, waiting for her to show up at your door with a sly smile and remind you that she promised she would come back. 

Promises were funny things. Some were kept, some were doomed from the start. 

You didn't have a response that would have justified an argument against Bucky's words so you closed your eyes and let his heartbeat underneath your palm lull you to sleep. Sleep was something you never seemed to have enough while Bucky barely needed to sleep at all. The only time he was truly exhausted was after long missions or when he was hurt. Often both. Yet every night that he was home, there he was in your bed with his arm around you. Your embrace was the only thing that was worth enduring the terrifying dreams. 

That night your dreams were peaceful until suddenly they were no longer dreams. Rather visions of moments that moved too quickly and unclear to distinguish. 

[Vision Begins]

"Give me the gun," a feminine voice demanded coldly. A flash of red hair in the dimly lit room disappeared as fast as it appeared. Another flash of hair-- this time blonde, came into focus and shook. The blonde girl was laughing.

A light flickered on and a damp, crumbling brick room was revealed, surrounding two women in identical black suits. One practically still a child and the other, a woman. Both exquisitely stunning; one blonde and the other a red head. The blonde sat in a wooden chair with her ankles tied tightly to the bottom of it. In her hands was a unidentifiable handgun pointed straight at the redhead. There was a great amount of fear in the woman's eyes as she looked directly into the barrel of the gun. 

"Oh Natasha. I heard you loved the theatre but this is just childish. You came here knowing I would win. I'm stronger now, aren't I? Just ask Petra..." The girl smirked with wide, faux-innocent eyes and tilted her head slightly, letting her pale hair fall to the side. 

"Petra is dead. Starkovsky drove her insane and then you had to kill her. I came for you well informed, Rooskaya," Natasha said bitterly, the girl's nickname coming out like a hiss. Even while filled with fear Natasha spent no time shying away from the blonde. Instead, she grabbed the front of the gun between her fingers and leaned in closer to the girl. "You're not here to shoot me. You're here to threaten me. So let it all out then. Why did I come all the way to Russia and risk everything just to meet you?"

The mysterious blonde laughed once more and dropped the gun, letting it fall to the concrete floor with a loud clatter. "You risked nothing that you're not about to lose," she said softly, rocking forward in the chair to get closer to Natasha. "We know about your little family and where you've hidden the girl. So we've decided to let you choose. It's you, and then we take the girl. Or we take the girl and let you live. We also promise to return her when we are done with her. She just might not be... well, breathing."

Natasha instantly grabbed the blonde's chin in a tight grasp and dug her finger nails into her pale skin. Her eyes were shining with hatred and seethed venom through her words as she said, "You won't get a chance to touch either of us. And Yelena, don't be so pathetic honey. There is a never a "we" with them; do you forget so easily that I was once like you? Trust me when I say that you need them more than they need you."

"I am their best, they sent me for you, didn't they?" Yelena had a cocky glint in her pale blue eyes despite her chin being trapped between the lethal fingers of Natasha Romanov. 

"Exactly. You are expendable. If they can replace the best Russian assassin in the world, then they can certainly replace you. That is all you are, a replacement. If they actually needed you, then they wouldn't have let you loose in a room with me."

It only took a split second for Yelena to rock back and slam her back against the floor, lifting her legs in a slick motion that brought the back of her chair out from under her back. With her feet still tied to the chair, pointed diagonally to the sky, she lifted them up and brought the chair down with an echoing crack. Almost as quickly as she fell, she jumped back up with the chair broken around her and her feet tied to a single wooden bar. Her fists were positioned in a fighting stance as she stood in front of the older assassin. 

"I'll show you who's really expendable," Yelena mused haughtily, her eyes now stone cold and merciless after being insulted. She was just a child in so many ways but possibly just as lethal as Natasha. "You want to know something funny? When I killed Petra and found out it was all just a long test to drive me into taking your place, I realized something. I didn't want to be the Black Widow because I didn't think I could be as incredible as you were. But then I passed that test, killing Petra so ruthlessly that I began to become you almost instantly. I love being you so much that I'm more you than you are. Natasha Romanov is not the Black Widow. The Black Widow is a title, a position. And I fill it quite perfectly." 

Yelena's head hung for a short moment, admiring her fitting black suit that was so close in design to Natasha's. She was becoming the person Natasha used to be so rapidly that Natasha couldn't help but look at the girl and see the person she used to be. A pawn, a weapon, trained in the Red Room that almost tortured her very soul out of her. Yelena was too far gone, too dedicated and blindly accepting of what she was told to be. 

"Like I said earlier. You don't get me, and you definitely don't get the girl," Natasha bellowed as the room went dark and everything started to fade... 

[Vision End]

You were sitting upright in your bed and clutching your stomach, your heart hammering in your chest like it was threatening to rip itself out of you. Bucky's warm hand was rubbing your back and his metal one was placed against your forehead, cooling down your body temperature. You felt as if you were on fire and the blankets were smothering your lower body. Everything seemed to spinning around you and you could hardly even focus on the ceiling above you. Nothing was clear. 

"There was a gun shot. Someone grabbed the gun," you whispered shakily, tears prickling at your eyes. Bucky sat up straighter and placed a hand on your face, turning it towards him. Worry was written across his features but slightly overshadowed by the curiosity. 

"What? What did you see?"

Your mouth went dry and you struggled to stop yourself from shaking long enough to form more sentences. Nothing seemed to stop spinning no matter how hard you tried to focus. It was almost as if the vision was shoved into your mind and had scrambled everything else in the process. You had never seen anything that felt so recent, especially considering that the Nat in your vision was wearing the improved suit she had gotten made only two weeks before her last mission. How had the Russian woman called Yelena been wearing such a similar design? Why hadn't you known that Natasha's title of Black Widow in Russia had been replaced?

"Yelena. Her name was Yelena and Nat was with her in a room. One of them reached for the gun and I heard it go off but the vision faded too soon to tell who it was. Yelena looked insane, too emotional. Nat set her on edge. If Yelena had reached for the gun on the ground then Nat would have--"

Bucky covered your mouth before you could ramble on any longer. You finally focused on his pale green eyes and tried to catch your breath. 

"Don't ever mention that girl's name again. Believe me, (y/n), it's dangerous for you to even think it."

Your heart stopped completely for a moment, the sick feeling in your stomach only getting worse by the second. Had you envisioned a moment around the time Nat had died? Why couldn't you know the truth?

"Did they even find her body?" you asked through his fingers. He removed his hand and used it to rub his forehead like he could erase his own thoughts. You had never seen him look so panicked and conflicted before. 

Did you even want to know the truth?

"They did find a body. But if Yelena Belova was involved... I couldn't tell you whose it was."

"There's a girl," you mentioned in a hushed tone, trying to sort through a billion thoughts in your mind. "She said that they were coming for a girl."

That's when Bucky began to shake as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so invested in my own story, this is incredibly strange. I feel like I need closer now, oh my. 
> 
> I'm writing one more chapter (who knows, maybe more), that continue this story enough to properly give myself and you closer. I won't drag it out, I promise. I know you didn't come here for action or anything so I won't be throwing a ton of that at you. Everything will be wrapped up in the next chapter, and so anything I continue with after probably wont have a real plot you need to continue reading... 
> 
> I just wrote an entire essay and I'm shaking pretty badly because of how late it is, so forgive mistakes. I'll edit this week.


End file.
